Fenris Dreams
by Windariah
Summary: A brief look at the emotions F! Hawke is causing Fenris to feel and how he initially deals with them.
1. Chapter 1

This is my very first Fanfic. I am very intrigued by Fenris and the way he handles his emotions. My hope is to build this through Act III, Forgiveness.

All characters are owned by Bioware and just borrowed for my attempt at interpretation.

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><p>Fenris Dreams<p>

The lithe elf lay jumbled in a tangle with an old blanket next to a low fire. The blanket was fraying at the seams and seemed to be out of place when compared to the rich, silken coverings on the bed. His sword lay just to his right, in easy reach in case of the need of defending himself. He has quickly found that sleeping with his gauntlets on would often cause him to wake up with, sometimes, incredibly bad injuries, so they lay next to his sword. However, the rest of his armor remained strapped on his body. Uncomfortable perhaps, he has convinced himself, but necessary. He had fought too hard to get to this point to have his old master catch him unaware, and unprepared.

The tattooed markings that run up and down his skin pulsed slightly blue and quickly faded. His low moan that accompanied it was almost inaudible. His white hair framed his face gracefully even in his fitful sleep. Even his tattoos, while some would say made him simply stand out and makes it harder for him to hide, gave him a distinguished, almost regal appearance. The lyrium was applied under his skin in the most painful ritual. In fact it was so painful that he lost all memories of his life before, and now can only recall the many tormented years he served Danarius. Through countless acts of punishment, and degradation Danarius, a Tevinter magister, had created the perfect weapon, the perfect bodyguard, and now that bodyguard waited for Danarius to return to attempt to claim him, again.

He rolled over again and sat up with a start. Clenching his eyes shut, he shakes his head and tries to shake off the dream. However the memory of her is too fresh in his mind, and the confusion over all the emotions she brings out in him causes him to keep her close in his mind. He is determined to understand, to understand how the brief touch as she helped him to his feet has sent his pulse racing, his breathing labored, and the hollow feeling in his stomach. It is beyond his understanding.

It was his own fault it has happened, and he knew it. His need to know she was ok, while increasingly difficult to ignore, in every battle had caused it. He looked back, checking to make sure she was ok, a split second, but that was all it took. The bandit hit him hard with the pommel of his sword and Fenris flew backwards. Ironically it was her, Hawke, along with Varric that dealt with that bandit, while Fenris tried to shake the grogginess off. He heard her scream, "FENRIS". and followed it with a massive blast of magic that sent that bandit flying back through the air. Varric aimed Bianca, and Bianca put a bolt right between his eyes before he even knew what happened. And then she was there, offering her hand to help him come to his feet while Varric checked the bodies for valuables.

Her touch, simply her hand on his, as she pulled him to his feet, sent his senses reeling. The heat from her hand steamed its way up his arm, and warmed his inner core. His eyes met hers and all at once, everything in the world seemed right. It wasn't though, he knew it wasn't. Danarius was still out there, hunting for him. The quanari here in Kirkwall were restless. Also, lets face it, their companions, well, they each have their own problems too. Knowing that didn't change the way he reacted to her. He excused himself as soon as he felt he could talk, not trusting his voice for some time, knowing it would crack and they would all want to question him about it. He ran, nearly blindly back to his falling down, rundown mansion in Hightown and cracked open a bottle of Aggregio Pavali. Usually he would only drink a few sips before the bottle managed to find its way to the wall, splattering wine and glass, but tonight was different. He wanted to see if he could find that warmth again, explore it and understand it, but Fenris didn't understand that he wouldn't find that anywhere but with her.

Knowing he didn't find what he was looking for in that bottle, in fact all it gave him was a thick, pulsing headache, he ripped the blanket off and laid back down. He knew he wanted to explore what he felt, the desire to feel it again was almost unbearable. Deep down though he felt wrong. Wanting anything as a slave is not looked upon kindly. While he was no longer a slave, his emotions were often dealt with as if he was still serving. So he turned them off, turned off emotions, wanting, desire, for her, for understanding, for anything other then Danarius's heart, still beating and ripped from his chest. He turned off happiness and desire and convinced himself that until Danarius was dead, he wouldn't really be free to explore it anyway.

However, once the little elf finally drifted back into a light sleep, his markings once again started to glow and pulse. He wouldn't know it, but as he dreamed of her, and her touch his body would respond and the lyrium in his veins would sing in desire.


	2. Chapter 2

Fenris' preoccupation with Hawke isnt something he can ignore, as much as he might like.

Once again all characters belong to Bioware, I just borrow them for my interpretation.

Fenris paces a circular path around the littered room in his dilapidated mansion. A long-ago broken crate lays overturned and he kicks it, sending a shower of wood splinters around the room like a cloud. Several embed themselves in the bottom of his foot, but he is too focused to notice, or perhaps his feet are too calloused to notice. They join the slivers of glass from the shattered wine bottles that have wormed their way into his soles as he has passed through this path hundreds of times. He doesn't feel either the wood or glass, in fact he is barely even aware of his physical surroundings. He glares at the floor, grumbling under his breath, but his feet never stop moving. He shoves a chair, that seemingly found its way into his path all on its own. It shudders under the powerful force of his arm, and tumbles to the stone floor, shattering with a huge crash. Fenris doesn't even flinch, his mind and thoughts are resting with her.

He had avoided her for weeks. Waking with the dawn, and escaping the confines of the broken down manor, spending his days walking in the shadows in Darktown, or pacing the coastline outside the city. Sneaking in his own home after the sun gave way to the shadows of the dark, like a thief. Only allowing himself to gather supplies from the lowtown market when he knew she would be home, dealing with the grief that Carvers loss had caused her mother. It had been over a year, but Leandra still felt the sting of losing Carver so soon after Bethany. Only visiting the Hanged Man on the few occasions that Varric had come busting in his front door, nearly dragging him down the street to get him to come play Wicked Grace. Successfully avoided, successfully hidden away, but by no means successfully forgotten, no matter how hard he tried.

He was just out for an evening walk, or that is what he told himself at least. However, he found himself in the shadows across the square from Hawkes mansion. He was completely baffled how his subconscious had dragged him here, to her, to a MAGE, of all people a mage. Hawke was certainly capable of handling any issues that might arise within her own home on her own, and with that faithful dog at her side, he wasn't sure anyone would even try to harm her. Knowing that didn't change his desire to protect her. He stretched his ears out, listening in the direction of her door. He pushed the sounds of the wind rustling the vines and branches of the bushes away, and concentrated only on her door. He was still standing all the way across the square, but ... yes, that was voices he heard. Her commanding, confident voice carried across the courtyard even from behind the closed door of her home. The second voice though, was more difficult. It was male, harsher, deeper certainly, but it didn't sound like either of the dwarves that served her. Familiarity prickled deep within his mind and he sat back trying to find the link that he would find recognizable.

As the door slowly opened everything fell in place. He saw her at the same instant as the abominations voice rang in his ears. Fire burned in his soul and the lyrium laced through his skin singing in tribulation and jealousy all at once. He squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed hard as the sound of her tinkling laughter swam through his head. He could feel the lyrium racing through him and it took all the control he had mastered over the years to control it. He could not, would not allow the lyrium to take over and give away his position, hiding in the shadows like a stalker. He took a deep breath to settle himself and he felt the slowing in his veins. Opening his eyes just in time to see Anders steering Wind Hawke through the archway towards Lowtown, hand on the small of her back. Her smile lit up the courtyard as if it were high noon. As they disappeared he felt his control slip away. As the pulse of the lyrium finally showed itself, a pale blue, he spun, wildly. His feet tangled in the vines that he had pushed away from his hearing and thoughts and he felt himself falling, his head cracking against the stone wall that the vines climbed tenderly.

It was enough to get his thoughts back where they should be, hiding. He quickly untangled his feet, brought himself to his knees and could feel a drip of blood running down his face. His head was ringing and he knew he should have someone check for severe damage, but he couldn't begin to explain to Hawke, or the abomination how this had happened, nor was he willing to sacrifice his pride or self reliance to ask either of them for help, particularly after what he just saw. He came to his feet, hung his head in shame, and headed home, to his lonely, cold mansion where he could hide in the shadows.

This is where he found himself now, pacing, thoughts running amok through his head. He could still see Anders hand sitting so seemingly innocently on Hawkes back and the thought infuriated him. He was furious that Anders would touch her, Anders knew what he was, knew he could lose control of himself and knew that Justice could take over at anytime, yet he still allowed himself to be so close to her. How could he allow such a breach, what if he hurt her? "I will kill him myself", Fenris sputtered. And Hawke, oh Hawke, how can you be so trusting and carefree with such an animal, such a risk! How could she turn her back to Anders, trusting that he wont hurt her, how could she laugh while doing so? So carefree, trusting, and determined to put herself in harms way. "Where is her sense of self preservation? Doesn't she care if she lives?", he spat. Anger coursed through his body and tightened his muscles as if in preparation for battle.

And then, he saw himself leading her, his hand gently guiding her. Her smile for him, and him alone, her laugh surrounding him, encompassing him. Anger drained away and Fenris faltered. He sunk to the worn stone under his feet, on his knees, and put his hands over his face. Desire coursed through his body and he shook as he wrapped his body into a ball. He wanted her, and he couldn't deny it. He wanted her laugh, her touch, her trust, her love. He wanted her softness and carefree view of the world. Tears slid soundlessly down his face as he pictured his arms wrapped around her gentle form. He knew she could never be his. His, bah, an escaped slave, an elf, without even a home. Nothing but enemies in his past, and certainly in his future. She deserved someone who wasn't marked, whose future wasn't certain, who could love her, and trust her and keep her from harm, and he knew he was as likely to put her in harm with the slavers as that damn abomination that she was with tonight. He will keep her safe though, even if he cant have her, cant touch her, cant even relate to her views, he vows to himself that he will keep her safe, and anyone that threatens that safety will have their heart torn from their chest for their trouble.


	3. Chapter 3

I want to put a huge thanks out to all that are following this story. I do have much more to come, with my slightly dark version of Fenris. All welcome all critique, glowing or not!

All characters of course, belong to Bioware. I only borrow them for my interpretations!

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He seems to have lost track of time. Each second runs together to minutes, minutes to hours, hours to days. The days run together to weeks and months. Each moment in time seems just like the previous moment, or even the next. There is no distinction between them. Grey skies fill his days and his nights, he seems to have forgotten, or perhaps has never learned the warmth of the sun.

The slavers haven't returned for him, yet. While watchful and alert to their inevitable return, he is no longer as anxious that they will catch him by surprise. The dwarf, Varric, seems to know all the happenings within the city. Fenris certainly doesn't trust him well enough to believe all the outlandish stories that he loves to go out of his way to tell, but he is confident that if Varric heard whispers of slavers or hunters in town, that he would warn him. It was also certain in Fenris' mind that Varric would know if any hunters stepped foot in Kirkwall. "Perhaps there is safety in numbers." He had thought to himself.

However, he couldn't convince himself that he wasn't alone. He has no family, and the only friend, if he could call them that, were the ragtag group that seemed to orientate itself around Hawke. They try, frequently, although failing miserably to drag him into their off hour activities.

"Come on out to the Hanged Man tonight, Fenris." Varric encouraged in his deep drawl. "The whole gang is coming out tonight, well except Anders. He said he has some work in his clinic to do." Varric rolled his eyes. "I am guessing he is just out riling mages up, though."

Fenris does consider for a brief second, but quickly drops his eyes to the pebbled stone road under his feet and sadly says,"Another time, perhaps." and slowly walks off towards Hightown. The thought of seeing Hawke, particularly without the awful abomination around certainly has some appeal. On the flip side, sitting in the Hanged Man with all the boisterous laughter and rambling drunks doesn't really appeal to him. Also, the pirate Isabela keeps giving him these awful smiles that make his heart sink into his stomach. "No." He thinks to himself, "Tonight I simply wish to be alone."

Also, holding a conversation with Hawke around is proving to be beyond his current emotional abilities. He tried, just the other day, walking back from The Wounded Coast, to talk to her. They had been out looking for darkspawn that either, against what he knew about darkspawn, just didn't want to come out and play or they were simply a figment of Varrics imagination. Just for the record he was putting his coin on the second option there.

He had just wanted to ask how she was doing. It had been ages since they had spoken of anything except the fly by night mercenary activities she arranged. However, when he got up the courage, he looked up, and her icy blue eyes met his. His thoughts went blank and his words fled under her gaze. She smiled softly when he finally choked out, "Hawke.". As quickly as he could manage he averted his eyes, placing them firmly on the ground in front of him and prayed a quick prayer that his feet would not tangle of their own accord as he set off ahead of her, nearly at a run, towards Kirkwall.

For the last several nights he has been considering his reaction. He has seen woman's flesh before. He would help his old masters apprentice to dress, and undress, and occasionally to bathe. He forced himself to think back to those days, as painful as they are now, and found he found no appeal in the woman, even before the concept of freedom was introduced to him, but Hawkes eyes, when she set that icy blue on him...

"Oh, Hawke. You are unlike any woman I have ever known.", he thinks to himself and her affect on him has made this painfully obvious. The unwavering gaze she unleashes on him is utterly debilitating. The sound of her voice makes his breath hitch and his heart race. A simple thought of her and the lyrium in his flesh sings a song of rejoice.

Fenris is certain she is different, even with his slight range of woman in which to compare her to. He is certain that those blue eyes and the confident voice she commands have a purpose in his life, but he isn't convinced of what that purpose may be. His debt to her for her help with the hunters has long ago been re payed, yet he remains at her side, and he knows that he will continue to do so. He knows as long as she desires his help, he will be there to offer it. He may be an elf, he may be an escaped slave, and he may be marked by his past forever, and in his eyes this makes him unworthy of the splendor of the woman he dreams of. However, he can, and he will give her his unwavering loyalty and stand by her side, to protect her, and to help her, in any way he can.

While Fenris would tell anyone that asks that he doesn't remember dreaming, or even that he doesn't believe he dreams, if you happen to come across a lightly glowing elf, slumbering in a rundown mansion in Hightown, you could be certain that his dreams are wrapped entirely around her and that each pulse that radiates from him, holds a part of her within it.


	4. Chapter 4

Learning to trust her. This is based heavily on the "Speak to Fenris" quest that you get at teh beginning of Act II, so major spoilers ahead.

As always, Bioware owns all the characters, I simply borrow them for my interpretation.

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Fenris was sitting in front of the fire, letting his thoughts drift. He was thinking about Hawke, which seems to take up more and more of his time. It was in the middle of the evening though, and he really didn't have anything more pressing to deal with at the moment, so he was happy to indulge himself. Funny, how he was getting more comfortable indulging...

He was so engrossed in his thoughts that he didn't hear the knock on the door, or the soft footfalls coming up the stairs. In fact, he didnt realize anyone was there, until the soft scent of vanilla wafted over him. Even so, he initially thought it was part of his daydream, vanilla wrapped around her. "Fenris." she said quietly, jerking him out of his musing delusions. "Hawke!", he exclaimed, surprise showing in his wide eyes. He must be more careful, being taken by surprise wasn't an encourage thought with other company.

"What thoughts have you so enthralled? I did knock before I came up.", she said quietly, still standing over him.

His brain scrambled for a suitable answer, letting his gaze shift back to the fire where his eyes could not deceive him. He certainly couldn't admit to her how truly enraptured he was by her. "Danarius, Its been 3 years, but there is still no sign of him. I am beginning to wonder if he's finally given up.", he spits out. knowing that his anger towards his old master will help him keep his concentration.

He looks up and is surprised to see that she has found the chair across from him, and is sitting, watching him with something glowing in her eyes that he cant place. "This is his mansion isn't it. He must know you are here." she replied matter of fact like, still looking at him intently.

Fenris sits up a little straighter under her gaze. "Would you be surprised to learn that it isn't, in fact, his mansion? It belongs to a Tevinter merchant, one who has evidently given up on the place." He shifts uncomfortably in his chair, fidgeting even a little. "Perhaps he is dead. Perhaps Danarius kill him. Either way, If Danarius is aware of my presence, he has done nothing." He finds he cant look at her in the eye and keep his composure, so he finds a small stain on the wall over her right shoulder and focuses his attention there.

"Don't tell me you are going to miss all the attention." She says with a bit of a laugh. As the corners of her mouth upturn, he finds his focus slipping and forces himself to pay attention. He smiles slightly and takes a deep breath, changing the subject. "Tell me, what do you do when you stop running?"

Her eyes widen slightly in surprise at the apparent hopelessness in his voice. "You take a breath, then look around and start anew." she says with a touch of wonder in her voice.

Looking back over her shoulder, he shakes his head softly. He thinks to himself how simple it would be if he could do that. "I don't know how. My first memory is receiving these markings," He lifts up his hands staring in repulsion at his forearms where the white tattoo brands run an intricate design. "the lyrium being branded into my flesh." he finishes, wincing slightly to himself. "The agony wiped away everything. Whatever life I had before I became a slave, it's lost." He dropped his eyes to the stone floor, embarrassed at himself for revealing so much to her. He stands up, pacing a few steps away, then turning to face her, yet keeping his eyes trained on the wall to her right. "I shouldn't bother you with this. My problems are not yours."

Confusion lights her eyes. "You don't know who you were?" she asks questioningly. Her eyes search for his, but they wont meet hers.

"Fenris was the name Danarius bestowed upon me." he said quietly. "His 'little wolf' ". Anger began to once again force it way through his body. "If I had another name or a family then they were taken from me." He shakes his head back and forth, "But again, this is not your concern." His eyes finally meet her and he sees a light shining in her eyes he has never seen before.

She smiles at him and it lights the entire room in flames. He has to focus hard to catch what she says next. "I might be able to help you with your problems, or give you a few more." she says, still grinning at him.

Anger crosses his face, why would she tease him so. Certainly she understands they aren't a compatible match. "More problems then you usually do I assume" He spits at her, crossing his arms harshly. He quickly realizes though that his anger is sorely misplaced. There could be no conceivable way for her to understand just how the thoughts of her torture his mind. "You are a beautiful woman Hawke," He said a bit kinder. "Is there no one else that has your attention?" He cant help but hold his breath in anticipation of her response, could there be a chance that she wanted him as badly as he wanted her.

Her grin turns seductive when she replies in a sultry voice, "I didn't quite catch that first part."

He chuckles softly to himself, oh yes, how ironic it is. She pretends she doesn't know the power that she holds, that she doesn't know that she is desirable. He knows she has seen Anders staring at her, mesmerized in fact. "I don't need to repeat the obvious I am certain." he says, still smiling at her. Then his smile fades sharply and a frown creases his face. Looking down he says softly," I am an escaped slave, and an elf, living in a borrowed mansion. None of these things bother you?" His heart sinks, he knows she will now realize the truth of things. She will leave and this conversation will be the only one he has with her with the thickness of emotion streaking through it.

Her soft reply startles him. "Why do you think that would bother me?"

His eyes finally meet hers, and speaks with conviction and certainty that he has never been able to use with her before. "You are not most people clearly. You raise an interesting point. I will have to," he pauses a moment before finishing, "consider it."

"You do that." She says quietly, standing and turning towards the door. She stops and turns back to him, "The viscount has told me that the Arishok wishes to speak to me. I was hoping you would accompany me tomorrow."

"Certainly", he says, finally realizing that she had not, until this point, given a reason for her abrupt visit to his home. His face flashed with chagrin at his mistake.

The blush flushing his cheeks only made her smile sweetly at him. "Please meet me at my estate in the morning. Varric will meet us and we will head to the Qunari compound from there." She turns and walks out, and only when he hears the gentle sound of the door thumping shut does he finally breathe.

His thoughts are a whirl, could she, would she? How would...? He feels as if a massive weight has been lifted off his shoulders. Sharing the little bit about him that he did with her made him feel... accepted. She didn't question his words, simply listening, quite intently at that, and asking him questions, encouraging him to share more when he would clam up. "This is a very interesting development". he thinks to himself. "I will certainly have to consider it." He will consider her, consider sharing more of his life with her, perhaps, if nothing else he can call her a friend.

Sleep took a long time in coming to call on the elf that night. He reveled for many hours in what he knew was his first taste of intimacy, and for once, he was very hopeful that he could experience this wondrous thing again. Hope is an entirely new and alien view for an ex slave.


	5. Chapter 5

This is very heavily based on Questioning Beliefs, Act II, Spoiler warning!

I follow the conversation between Hawke and Fenris nearly to the letter, I only add in his feelings, etc. to the existing content.

As always, the characters belong to Bioware, I only borrow them for my interpretation.

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Fenris sat at the head of the long wooden table. Ceramic mugs and wine bottles lay scattered haphazardly across its surface. Two candles flickered soft light over the room, causing shadows to dance on the walls. His green eyes stared at the flame on the candle closest to him, willing the light to take his memories and burn them from his head. He alternated between guilt and rage with each flicker of the flame.

He had spent the last several days recovering from the encounter with the elf in Lowtown. The poison had infected everyone in the party, and it had taken Anders many hours of healing to set them all back to a semi normal state. Still, they had all been ordered to rest, for while their bodies were expunged of the poison, the damage still had to heal. And rest he had, until today.

It was the anniversary of that ill-fated day in Seheron when he had finally ran from Danarius. It was not, however, a day that he would ever recall without feeling terrible, gut wrenching bouts of guilt. It was a day that symbolized a person he didn't want to ever be again, but he didn't dare let himself forget it, for if he was to forget, he might repeat all the mistakes that he made. So began a tradition, each year on this date he would spend a day of self-reflection. A tradition of a day in which he drank more ale and mead and wine then he did for the rest of the year combined. An outsider watching him may even think it is a day of celebration for him, but that is far from the truth.

The afternoon he wasted away in the Hanged Man. Varric's face lit up when he walked in. "Hey Elf." He called across the mostly empty room; it was still very early in the day. "I am glad to see you are out and feeling better after that elf poured tried to kill everyone in Kirkwall. I'll make sure to tell everyone that the resilient, broody elf stayed with the guards while Hawke turned off all the valves." Varric winked at him.

"I do not brood." Fenris replied, finding his way to Varric's table. Perhaps the dwarf's stories would distract him enough that he could drink the ale without having to taste it, much. Varric snapped his fingers and the waitress brought Fenris a mug of ale, complete with foam dripping down the filthy sides.

"What brings you here to this lovely establishment?" Varric asks him loudly.

The rest of the afternoon is a haze in Fenris' head. He vaguely recalls Merrill dropping by, as naive as ever. He thinks she was passed out on the table when he left, but he could be mistaken. Isabela made her appearance, not that anyone would ever question that she would. He does seem to remember Varric mentioning that he was out drinking Isabela, and he did. He also remembers Isabela entangling herself around him, and whispering smut in his ear. A vague memory of telling her to shut up and leave him alone and her resulting pouty retreat to the chair next to Varric remains, too. Isabela was shallow though, she would be back at him the next time she saw him. When he had stood up and the room started to spin he headed back to his mansion, somehow without running into anyone else he knew.

His first stop in the mansion was the wine cellar. He knew he had several bottles of Agreggio left and he was determined to get them. The trip down, as well as back up the stairs, while cradling 4 bottles of wine in his arms no less, was one he was thankful no one was around to see. He was certain no one would ever call him graceful, or even just coordinated again. He had sat down in the padded chair at the head of the table, set the four bottles of wine down, lit the candles, and he hadn't moved since.

Now the candles were burned to half wick, he was on the last half of the last bottle of wine, and he found his thoughts were wandering instead of keeping on track. He tried to focus, and failing just leveled his eyes to the candle. Fenris doesn't know how long he stayed there, not moving, just watching, before he heard it. A soft shuffle of fabric, and light thumps on the stairs as someone worked their way to him. He smelled the soft scent of vanilla wrap around him and he knew who it was before she ever walked in the room.

Hawke stepped in the room, briefly surveying the wine bottles and said," Varric said you made an appearance at The Hanged Man today. He suggested someone should come make sure you made it home ok." Her voice got quiet before she continued, "I volunteered"

Fenris holds the bottle of wine in his hand out towards her. "Last bottle of the Agreggio. I have been saving it for a special occasion." He didn't see any reason to mention the three empty bottles on the table, just in case she hadn't noticed them.

She steps lightly towards him and the vanilla that accompanies her everywhere entangles itself around him. She takes the wine bottle from him and asks "And, what's that?" before taking a long drink.

"The anniversary of my escape!" comes out of his mouth before he even realizes he said it. "Astia valla femundis. Care to hear the story?" A sudden desire to share all the experiences of that day surges through him and he finds he wants to share it with her.

"I thought you avoided talking about this." Hawke replies, sounding surprised.

Fenris' mind goes into overdrive, at least as well as it can in his very drunken state. "Not on special occasions." he manages to form into coherent words. How could he explain to her that he has never told anyone the shocking things he is going to share with her tonight, and that he never thought he would.

He had to really make himself focus when he starts to hear her voice again, but he wasn't quite fast enough. "...listening to you talk" is all he hears, but she is smiling at him and the smile distracts him again. He wonders to himself how one smile can make the world so much brighter, then chuckles quietly to himself when he compares how bright this is, compared to that fateful day. "There are few pleasure greater then speaking to a beautiful woman", he hears himself say.

'Focus' he thinks. He takes a deep breath and stills up straighter. "Let's see. You have heard of Seheron?" His eyes meet hers and she responds with a slight nod. "The Imperium and the Qunari have fought over the island for centuries now. I was there with Danarius during a Qunari attack. I managed to get him to a ship, but there was no room for a slave. I was left behind. I barely got out of the city alive."

He took a deep breath stealing himself, knowing the worst was still to come. Her eyes narrowed slightly at him when she asked, "I thought Danarius considered you valuable." He laughed quietly before he explained. That memory he did find a bit of humor in. "He wasn't given a choice. The look on his face as the ship pulled out was priceless." The memory of Danarius panicking and screaming at the ship captain causes Fenris to smile, a large, ear to ear, grin. It quickly fell off his face and his expression turned sad as he tried to think of how to explain what happened next.

"There are rebels in the Seheron jungles called Fog Warriors. They found me and took me in, nursed me back to health. I stayed with them for a time, until Danarius finally came for me." He frowned to himself, feeling the guilt that he has lived with from that day.

He is forming his next words in his head when she blurts out, "Were you with these fog warriors willingly?" His thoughts cloud as he tries to form the answer for her. After a moment he realizes that his words cannot answer her, but perhaps the story will. And perhaps it will cause her to leave him, or to kill him. He is certain that the traitorous deed he did will cause her to run from him, and she should, as it could be her that he turns on next.

He found himself leaning forward and he sat back again, and then looked to the floor. He couldn't meet her eyes while he described this. "I'd grown fond of the rebels. They bowed to no master and fought for their freedom. It was beyond my experience." he said while remember to himself how he had questioned why they would jeopardize the entire group to save one boy from slavers. They had tried to explain, but he couldn't comprehend it. In the end, they killed the entire band of slavers, freeing 5 children that had been taken captive.

He looked up, meets her gaze for just a split second, and then quickly looked for the bottle of wine. He felt the need to have something in his hands. "When Danarius came, they refused to let him take me." He takes a long drink on the bottle and lets the guilt overtake him. "He ordered me to kill them." Fenris pauses, and leans forward. "So, I did", he continues, his voice breaking. He remembers...

_He remembers the jungle camp as if he just stepped foot out of it. Tents spread around a central campfire, the smell of stew in the air, the sounds of weapons being sharpened and armor being stripped and shined throughout the camp._

_Danarius smiled at the leader of the Fog Warriors, Lindor. "I have come to reclaim my property. I must admit, I am pleased to find him in such great shape. Perhaps there is a way I can repay you for your hospitality to him." Fenris could almost imagine the confidence dripping from Danarius. No one would dare defy him!_

_Lindor stared at Danarius. His eyes narrowed at the magister. "I'm here to inform you that Fenris won't be returning to you. He had found a new path." _

_Danarius looks at Fenris, standing right behind Lindor, eyes averted, staring intently at the ground. "My little wolf, certainly not" Danarius says. "He lives to serve me. He will be returning with me. Certainly we can arrange something. I can reward you."_

_The other warriors in the camp have heard enough negotiations to know that this isn't going to end well, and they start quietly surrounding Fenris, intending to keep between him and the Magister. _

_Lindor stares at the magister, never tempted by the offer and says his last words, "I'm sorry, but I can't let that happen."_

_But Danarius knows his servants well, and this day will end on his side. "Let's see what he has to say, shall we. Fenris! Your master has returned. You will obey!" He is nearly screaming now. Fenris raises his head just slightly and Danarius looks into the bright green eyes hiding behind strands of white hair. "DESTROY THEM!" He shouts!_

_Fenris attacks without thought. His huge sword swings around and inflicts damage to all within reach. One by one they fall, until Lindor, and Danarius are all that are left standing. They are facing each other, with Fenris standing between them. As Fenris charges towards Lindor, but before he can strike him down he sees Lindor tossing his spear, up and over Fenris's head. Fenris' eyes widen as it sails over his head, and straight towards Danarius. His momentum dragged him on and Fenris' eyes met Lindor's one final time, as his hand phases into Lindor's chest, and rips out his heart._

_The effect was immediate. To the end Lindor was trying to protect him. Even as Fenris charged at him, and tore out his heart, he was trying to kill Danarius, to free Fenris. However, Fenris didn't, before now, believe he could be free. He didn't believe he could fight. It was his destiny to serve, and he did it well. Tears slid down his face as he turned and saw the warriors spread on the ground around him. How could he have done this, how could he have destroyed those that protected him, those that sheltered him with nothing but compassion and kindness? Anger surged through his body. He turned, now facing the opposite direction from Lindor, and saw him, saw Danarius, spear through his shoulder, blood pumping out of his body and pooling on the ground and the whole world spun. Fenris turned, scrambling over bodies, screaming an unrecognizable cry, and ran. He ran, and ran, and ran._

Her gasp brought his attention back. "Why?" She cried. "Why would you do such a thing?"

Fenris averted his eyes from her unyielding, questioning eyes. Humiliation dripped through his body. It joined with the pain and the guilt that had taken permanent residence, merging into a new alchemy of anguish he had never experienced. "It felt inevitable, my master had returned and this…." He paused, searching for the words to describe to her how he had felt. "…this fantasy life was over. But once it was done. I looked down on their bodies. I felt…." He pauses again, eyes closed, letting the misery wash over him. "I couldn't….. I ran and never looked back." The guilt washes over him again and he slumps his shoulders in defeat. The pain of his betrayal is again fresh in his body, as if it had just happened. They had given everything to protect him, and he had abandoned them, swept them away as if just a drop of rain.

Silence filled the room like a heavy cloud on a stormy afternoon. He expected the worst now. She knew of the worst of his deeds, and he expected her to cut him down like the traitor he was. He closed his eyes and waited to hear her move, feel her magic working in the air, preparing to end his miserable life. And sadly, at this moment in time, he would have welcomed it.

However, in a style most suited to Hawke, she once again surprised him with her compassion. "How well did you know these fog warriors?" she asks, almost too quietly for him to hear. Her voice was filled with sympathy he didn't deserve. He can't understand why she isn't asking the important question. The question of how deep his loyalty to her lies, and if he would betray her as easily.

"I knew them only a few months, but in that time I felt as if I truly lived. I was in awe of them and I owed them everything." He brings his eyes up to meet her, wanting her to understand how truly dangerous he can be. "And I turned on them even so."

He was surprised at her soft expression, although later, he couldn't understand where that surprise had stemmed from. Her voice has shown her compassion even when he couldn't bear the humiliation of looking at her while confessing his treachery. He starts to feel a little relieved that this story, his story, is no longer his alone. Fenris knows she will never fully understand, he knows that she wasn't there, and she didn't see, but he feels the weight of loneliness lift as he realizes she is still here, as understanding as ever, even as she learns the worst about him.

"This can't be easy to talk about." She states, very matter of fact, as if it just occurred to her.

"I have never spoken about what happened to anyone", he admits to her. "I have never wanted to." He reaches over and grabs the wine bottle off the table, and can't seem to recall how it got out of his hand to the table. "I know we don't always agree Hawke, but…" He trails off, losing the nerve to admit how deep his feelings for her have just deepened.

She grins easily at him, "But?" She asks. The light is dancing in her eyes again and he can't help but smile back at her slightly. He gains confidence from her.

"I have never allowed anyone too close." He thinks to himself that he needs to really explain himself to her, she needs to understand. "The ritual that gave me my markings also stripped me of my memory. The pain is caused was extraordinary, and the memory lingers." He is certain now he isn't making my sense, and his head is swimming with all the wine he had drunk. "But you are unlike any woman I have ever met. With you it might be different." He takes a deep breath, stealing himself for her rejection. It was all on the table now, do or die, fight or flight.

She grins at him, a sloppy grin of hunger, and his heart stutters in response. "Are you saying what I think you are saying? " She asks innocently.

The desire flows within him freely now. All he sees is her smile, and his imagination runs wildly with it without any thought of the repercussions. "If there was someone before I have no memory of it. Since my escape I have stayed nowhere for long, who could I trust? I didn't think I needed, or wanted anyone…" he pauses and his voice dropped to an almost inaudible level. "Until now…." He finishes.

She leans forward, almost in anticipation, as if she can't control herself. "We could find out."

His desire flares, passion overwhelming him. The urge to hold her, hug her, kiss her, protect her, taste her, and please her sets his body on fire, flames surging through his markings. The experience is something he has never felt, as he typically holds his emotions so close, so closed. How he would love to run his fingers through her hair, trace her lips, lightly kiss her eyelids. He closes his eyes and drinks in the experience. When he opens them again, the room spins, certainly a result of the wine. "Perhaps another evening." He suggests to her sheepishly. "One last toast then…. To the fallen" he exclaims and hands her the bottle of wine, only one sip left within its confines. He leans back in the chair and lets his eyes close, and the wine quickly overtakes him.

Hawke smiles at the sleeping elf, head tipped back, and thinks to herself how angelic he looks there. She drains the last of the bottle of wine, and sets it gently on the table in front of her. She stands up and blows the candles out, leaving the room lit only by the dying embers of the fire. Stepping to the door she glances back at him, and sees the light blue glow pulse, then disappear. It stops her in her tracks, and holding her breath to keep from waking him, she makes her way back to stand over the chair he slumbers in. A few seconds later, it happens again, another light blue pulse…. And it fades as quickly as it started. A bit intrigued at this latest development about her little elf, she settles back down in the chair she just vacated, and watches him while he sleeps.

Fenris awakes with his mouth as dry as sandpaper. He tried to open his eyes, but just the slight muscle movement of trying sends a searing pain through his head. He squeezes his eyes shut and wonders briefly why he is sitting upright when the previous night comes flooding back to him. He explodes, standing up so quickly he pushes the table several inches when his leg bumps into it, hard. The wine bottles from the previous evening tip over, roll off the table and smash loudly against the floor.

"Ugh" Fenris thinks to himself, slamming his eyes shut and trying to keep the room from spinning. He hears a quiet "Hmmmmm" from across the room and thinks he imagines it.

"Fenris?" She says quietly.

Panic floods through his body. Why is she here? He opens his eyes, searching for her, and finds her curled up, with the expensive bed coverings he never uses, in front of the fire. Her eyes, half open, run over him, trying to determine if he is ok.

"Why are you still here Hawke?" he chokes out, his throat even drier than him mouth is.

"You passed out, and I was going to leave." She says, shaking her head a bit, "But then you started to glow, only for a second and it was gone, but it kept happening." She rambled on. " So I sat down for a minute, you know, trying to decide if you were ok, and as I did, I heard it."

"Heard what?" He asks?

"You said 'Hawke'. It was so quiet the first time I thought I misunderstood. However, after a few minutes I realized….."

Fenris was floored. His mind was still spinning of the memories of the previous night and these things she was saying didn't make sense. He tried unsuccessfully to understand and then looked to her for an explanation.

"You said my name each time your markings glowed Fenris. Once I realized that, I couldn't leave you."


	6. Chapter 6

Thank you to all the followers of this story! I'm not even close to being done with it yet, so enjoy! This chapter is pretty gripping stuff and one of my favorite to write. The idea just wouldn't go away, I couldn't put it down.

All characters belong to Bioware, I just borrow them for my interpretation.

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><p>It has only been a day since Fenris had awakened to find Hawke sleeping by his fire. Her words had spun his world upside down. He had stared at her in confusion, making her repeat herself. All the wine and ale he had ingested had still had his head spinning and he couldn't grasp what she was saying, or more importantly, what it meant. He still wasn't sure, but he was going to spend some time trying to face his inner demons. He had acted very rashly when he screamed at her, basically throwing her out of his door. He knew that, and would apologize, but he wasn't ready to talk about the crazy things he said. He also wasn't ready to face what it meant, and that was much more the problem. If what she said was true, then obviously, he was in a lot deeper emotionally then he had ever been in his limited memories. The thought petrified and energized him all at once.<p>

He had spent the day pacing his mansion yesterday, and eventually finding that the walls were simply too confined to contain him, he had headed to the docks, finding a nice quiet spot by the water and tried to settle his thoughts. It had been a futile attempt, and he found himself heading back home no better than when he had headed out.

Pace, pace, pace. His head was too jumbled to hone in on any subject. He thought of her, how sweet and understanding she had been how hurt she looked when he lost his temper and yelled at her. He thought of how badly he wanted to undo the hurt he had caused her, and tried to devise a plan to do that, something that didn't involve goats and sheaths of wheat, though. He thought about how his body had ached to be near her, how her eyes could capture his and whisk his breath away. He thought about the heat of her body as she stands next to him.

"No, this is a mistake! I can't,… I can't do this." He thought to himself. "Until this is finished, until either Danarius or I lie dead, I can't." He thought about all the ways Danarius could use her to get Fenris to return to him, and none of them were pleasant. He couldn't stand the thought of Darnarius using Hawke for any purpose, didn't want Danarius anywhere near her. And lastly, quietly in the back of his mind, he remembered the Fog Warriors, and wandered if he would turn on her as he did them. The idea of it made his stomach heave with dread. "Absolutely not, I cannot!"

And so he decided, protect from a distance, never show anyone what he feels, quiet and alone. He had spent many years burying every thought, every feeling, every desire he had ever had, in fact, if felt normal, almost right to hide. His face was hard and unwavering, like a statue, with green eyes shining. "Focus on your job" he told himself.

And that was the face Hawke found when she came bounding into the room at the top of the stairs in his mansion. She was flushed and out of breath, obviously she had been running for quite some distance. The smell of vanilla wafted around him, encircling him and he had to push his thoughts back together again. The desire he had for her was so overpowering, but her words got through his outer façade and he found his focus.

"They have Isabela! We have to rescue her. The note said it was Castillion but…" she ran out of breath and had to stop.

He was at her side before she finished. "Where are they?" He growled. Isabela wasn't his favorite person, but he knew Hawke was close to her, and the pain on her face nearly brought his to his knees. "We will find her Wind" he said, the first time he acknowledged her by anything other than her surname.

"Varric", she said. "We have to find Varric", she choked out something about Varric walking Merrill home so she didn't get lost, but Fenris didn't stay to hear it,

"Let's go." He said simply, grabbing his sword on the way out the door.

They found Varric in Lowtown, heading back from the alienage where Merrill had taken residence after leaving her clan, The Dalish Elves. Varric ran back to get Merrill's help, and Fenris stood waiting with Hawke, letting her catch her breath.

"Where Wind, where did they take her?" he asks s once he thinks she can talk. Her face has become hard and focused on the task at hand.

"The slave caves to the north of the city", she replied. "I don't understand why they went to the caves though. Something seems off, but I don't know what to do other then go busting in there and get her."

"Then we go." He states with no purpose. Her eyes come up to meet his, offering a bit of thanks with the slight smile on her face. His face stays hard and emotionless, but he nods at her and pulls his eyes away, finding Varric and Merrill heading towards them.

The slave caves were usually a several hour journey on foot, but Hawke set a punishing pace that even Fenris was struggling to maintain. Merrill seemed to just drift along beside him, without even trying, while the dwarf was muttering curses to himself and saying something about dwarfs being natural sprinters. Fenris found his eyes wandering, searching the shadows for traps and ambushes at they ran by. Everything about this felt wrong, but he wasn't going to abandon her, he would protect her, at any cost, or so he thought.

As they approached the caves, her pace slowed. "Varric, check for traps." She commanded, nearly barking it out. It was obvious to Fenris she was very upset, as she never spoke to Varric so shortly.

They waited, Hawke pacing, while Fenris watched her apprehensively. She hadn't shown any signs of what had happened between them the previous day, but Fenris knew she held her emotions nearly as close to her heart as he did, and he was worried that her fear for Isabela would drive her into a trap.

"It's clear", Varric said. "In fact I don't see any signs that anyone has been here. Are you sure this is the right place, Hawke?"

She sighed loudly, "No, I'm not sure of anything right now except that Isabela is missing and I got a note delivered saying they brought here here here, for Castillion, so we have to go in."

Fenris spoke up with confidence, "I know these caves well. I will lead us in, please don't be heroic Hawke. Let's use caution." Her wry look told him that it was unlikely she would follow his advice and that she probably didn't appreciate it either. He stepped through the cave entrance, the rest of the group right behind him.

He moved as quickly as he could through the entry way, letting Varric sneak ahead checking for traps. Each room was empty and appeared as if it had been deserted for months, if not a year or more. Dust clung to the floors and walls of the cave as if it was another layer of the rock. They found a few spiders and Fenris dispatched of them before the rest of the group could even react. They had found a few doors that even Varric couldn't seem to pick open, but all seemed quiet behind them.

Finding himself in front of the last door, he turned to Hawke, "I don't know Hawke, this place seems empty. There is only one more room and I have seen nothing so far to indicate anyone has been here."

"Please, we have to find her!" Hawke choked out, eyes welling with tears. The desire to run to her and hold her, comfort her was difficult to restrain. He cursed silently to himself, he didn't even know HOW to comfort her, what she needed. He returned to the one thing he knew would make her feel better, "Let's try this last room, maybe…." His voice trailed off.

They stepped through, Fenris in the lead, into the last dark room in the caves. The dark was thicker than water, impossible to see through. The hair on the back of his neck stood up, as it always did when magic was being worked near him, as Hawke cast a spell of light. As soon as the spell was completed light flooded the large room, and in the far corner, there she was. She was tied, gagged, and looked to be unconscious. Hawke exploded into a run, "Isabela!" she cried.

Everything seemed to happen at once. Fenris screamed, "NO! Wait! Varric!". Varric and Merrill were only a step behind Hawke, heading to see if Isabela was still alive. Someone, and Fenris would never be able to tell you certainly who, stepped on a depression trap in the stone floor. There was a loud click, and the door behind them slammed shut, while another door, hidden in the stone walls, burst open and through it poured slavers.

Fenris had unsheathed his sword before they all made it through the door. He lunged at the first slaver he saw, counting the others as they poured through the door. Eight, Ten, Twelve, Fourteen, and they were still coming. He swung his large sword around in a large arc, taking down four of them, and then took a deep breath, getting ready for the next wave to reach him. He stole a quick glance at the rest of the group and his heart sunk.

Another door had opened behind where Isabela was tied up, and another group of slavers surrounded Hawke and her companions. Hawke pushed out hard with her hands, sending an invisible wave of magic hard into the group in front of her, but she still had two behind her. He watched with horror, as one grabbed her around the waist, and the other snatched her staff from her hands. Fenris acted without thought, he cried out, "No! I will not allow it!" He tapped into the last of his energy and dashing across the room, lashing out with his blade.

Everything fell into place at once. The sheer number of slavers, the elaborate trap, the seemingly empty caves, and the conclusion stopped Fenris in his tracks. He carefully surveyed the room, looking at the shadows in the corners, spinning in a circle. He had nearly made his way all the way around the room when he saw him. Fenris' eyes widened in fear and hatred. The lyrium in his veins ran faster, singing a song that only Fenris could hear.

Varric was on the floor, bleeding copiously from a head wound, Merrill was being sat on by two of the slavers, and the slaver that had grabbed Hawke around the waist, was now dragging her by her hair to the one man Fenris hated, and feared more than any other.

Danarius sauntered into the light in the room, "Fenris, as predictable as ever my pet." He said, words dripping with a confidence Fenris remembered all too well.

"I should have known you would stoop this low Danarius. You could have just come for me!" Fenris said eyes wide with fear. He watched Hawke reluctantly; unsure of what Danarius intended to do with her.

"Oh, I could have, but I thought it would be so much more fun to involve your friends, and I thought perhaps they could talk you into returning to me. You see, I see how you look upon her, and I wonder, would you see her hurt, or would you return to me to allow her to avoid that pain." Danarius flipped his staff towards Hawke while he spoke, and Fenris visably flinched. "Yes, I didn't think so." Danarius said with a chuckle.

"You are no longer my master. "Fenris managed to spit out between clenched teeth. His green eyes pierced Hawkes but he couldn't hold her gaze. Her eyes were wide but he couldn't see if she was afraid or trying to tell him something.

"Let's just see about that….."But Hawke interrupted Danarius this time. "Take him" she spit out. "He will never be free. His chains will never be broken."

Fenris' head wheeled, his eyes searching for her, widened in surprise. "Hawke", he cried softly, "Don't do this, please. I need you." She would never know just how badly he needed her, and her betrayal was more than he could bear. "Please." He croaked out. His eyes found hers and found icy blue, as cold as they implied, staring at him. Her face was hard, no emotion showing at all.

"I have made my decision" He heard her say, but the room was spinning now. Betrayed, by the one person he wanted, that he wanted to help, to protect, to trust. Betrayed by the one he wanted.

Fenris looked at the ground, then at the Danarius. He had no choices, no options. He hung his head in shame. "Will you come with me, my pet?" He heard Danarius say, voice saturated with implications that Fenris didn't want to face.

"I will… "Fenris paused, looking once more in Hawkes eyes, looking for an indication she didn't mean this, and finding none. "I won't resist. I will come." He said, lifelessly, and walked, eyes trained on the ground, to Danarius' side. "What will you have of me, master" he said, all signs of life devoid from his voice.

"Well you see my pet, I have a problem. I don't want this one to come later and try to rescue you." Danarius said in his sickly sweet voice. Fenris looked up briefly to see him gesturing at Hawke. "I could let the slavers have her, but I think this would be a good lesson for you to learn about anyone you might wish to get to help you in the future.

Fenris' heart filled with dread, he knew where this was going. He couldn't do this, but he had no options. She had betrayed him, given him to Danarius, and he had seen the hatred in her eyes. She didn't want him, she didn't want his help, or his affections, or his companionship. In fact, she would rather see him back under Danarius' thumb. Tears welled in his eyes at the deed he was about to have to do.

"Take her heart little wolf. I can see how badly you want her heart, her love, but she has no love for a slave like you. Take her heart and have it for yourself" he heard Danarius say.

Slowly Fenris turned to Hawke, his tears falling down his face. He found her blue eyes, as icy and cold as they had been when she had said to take him. "I'm sorry Hawke, I wish I could have done better by you." He said under his breath as he tapped into the lyrium in his skin. He felt it sing to him, and he reached up with his left hand, tipping her chin up to him. He looked deep into her blue eyes one last time, and reached into her chest with his right hand, grabbing her heart.

Her scream was his scream, they mingled and he couldn't tell them apart. He jerked up, blinking his eyes rapidly. Confusion overtook him as he saw the empty wine bottles on the table, just as they had been when he passed out two nights ago… or was it? He remembered waking up and finding her here, remembered bumping into the table and the bottles shattering on the floor, but he counted them… one, two, three, four wine bottles on the table. He was breathing hard, heart pounding, sweating heavily remembering his dream. He shakes his head, sitting back down hard in the chair he had awoken in, "I can't do this." He says aloud to the empty room, burying his face in his hands. "I have to tell her how deeply I care for her."

Fenris sat there in that chair, staring at empty wine bottles, spooked to the soul at the awful nightmare he had. He knew he needed her, that he had to have her, and played the conversations over and over in his head. He didn't know what to say, what to do, how to do it….

And that was how he spent his day.


	7. Chapter 7

Thank you to all that have Favorited/Alerted this story! Thanks, also, for the reviews! Please continue to comment and review. I think I was started to get out of character a bit, and hopefully have brought it back in line.

This is set after Hadriana's death, but before Hawke returns home. Enjoy!

All characters belong to Bioware, I just borrow them for my interpretation.

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><p>"I need to go."<p>

His words echoed hollowly in the room as he left her standing with Varric and Anders. He could feel her eyes on him, following him as he skulked away, letting his fear and anger get the best of him once again. His thoughts were everywhere, yet nowhere. His feet moved his forward on instinct alone, and some small portion of his mind navigated him around dead slavers and stone corners, leading him out of the vile slavers cave.

He had meant it when he gave his word; he tried to convince himself of that. In all the time that had passed since he had escaped Danarius' clutches he had never outright lied to anyone, and the thought that he allowed himself to do it now filled him with shame, even if it was to a heartless bitch like Hadriana. She had deserved exactly what she had gotten, and the fear that she had shown when she realized that he was going to kill her made him feel slightly smug. So many times she had tormented him, ridiculed him, and punished him, and yet he had never been able to respond, only to obey. For her to spend her last moment alive knowing that he would never have to follow her commands again, to let her fear for his repercussions for her reprehensible behavior, It gave him a sense of power that the slavers hold. It brought him joy to see her cower in fear, but the idea of acting like his previous master, and his now dead apprentice, was unappealing. The simple thought of it made his stomach turn.

Thinking about his sister was confusing as well. Family was a concept he had seen only with Hawke for any period of time. While Hawke and Carver didn't always see eye to eye, and her brother had been incredibly jealous of her abilities, there was a feeling of comfort that had existed between them that Fenris was fascinated by. While Carver would moan about playing second wheel, and fuss about the Templars hunting Hawke down, Fenris had watched him eying his sister in battle, making sure she was safe. And Carver wasn't alone; Hawke had spent more than one fight punishing foes greatly for any injustice she saw done to her brother. Instinctively he wanted to protect Varania, assuming she was truly his sister, just as Carver and Hawke had done to one another.

However, as he had told Hawke, if Hadriana knew, it was certain that Danarius did, and even more certain that Danarius would be watching her. Of course, Varania could also lack the instinctive protective feeling that Fenris was feeling, and could go running to Danarius with the news, hoping for his support in some cause or another. That thought was an unsettling feeling that caused Fenris to stagger slightly as he was walking. He caught himself before he tripped, looking up and taking in his surroundings for the first time since leaving the slavers caverns. He was surprised to find himself walking through the gates of Kirkwall already. Certainly he couldn't have been walking that long.

He made a conscious vow to pay more attention to his surroundings, and weaved his way through the late afternoon traffic to his mansion. He needed to be alone, and he needed time to think. The deserted mansion had many places in which he could sit and be undisturbed, even if Hawke or one of the others came looking for him. He pushed open the door, ignoring the stairs leading to the little room where he slept, heading instead to the back bedrooms of the mansion. He came to the door of the room that Hadriana used on their visits to Kirkwall, and stopped for a moment. He stared at the door, anger coursing through him. He remembered the way her heart had felt in his hands as he crushed it. He relished the thought for a moment before turning his attention back to the door in front of him.

Since being in the mansion he had never stepped foot in this room. The door was locked and he had never wanted to venture within the depths of the area that was dripping so heavily of Hadriana. Now, however, he wanted to shred the room to pieces, destroying everything he could touch, as he had destroyed her. He slammed into the door, hearing the door frame shudder under his weight before the wood splintered and shattered. The momentum caused the door to slam open, landing on the wall with a resounding thud before rebounding into him. It bounced harmlessly off him, and finally stopped, fully opened.

The room stank of magic. There was a long chest of drawers along one wall, the top covered with little glass and ceramic figurines of mages in different poses. The bed sat in a corner, its coverings lavish and frilly. The anger coursed through his veins as he sighted the last piece of furniture in the room, a small bookcase, with a half dozen books left on it.

He strode to the dresser and with one hard sweep of his arm sent the figurines flying. They smashed into pieces against the wall and floor, the glass tinkling as it bounced around. He turned to the bed, ripping the coverings off it. The frilly lace and silk snagged and tore on his gauntlets. He threw the bed coverings down in disgust and ripped his gauntlets off, freeing his hands. He started ripping open the drawers in the chest, grabbing everything within and tossing it on the pile of the bedding. Once a drawer was emptied, he ripped it out of the chest, and threw it over the bed against the wall. Each drawer shattered when it impacted the wall, sending wood splinters flying through the air.

Only after he had everything else in the room piled or destroyed did he turn his attention to the bookcase and the small number of books abandoned on it. He stared at the first book, picked it up and let his eyes run over the strange markings on the cover. Frustration overcame him at his inability to determine what the subjects of the books were. Anger coursed through him again and he snatched the books off the shelf, moving back to the pile of bedding and clothes he had already gathered. He snatched the blankets and sheets out from under the clothes, spreading it out and began heaping the books and clothes on the blankets. After looking around the room one final time to ensure he hadn't left anything behind, he pulled the four corners of the blanket together with everything else piled inside, making a satchel of sorts. He headed out the door and back towards the front of the mansion, to the stairs that led to his little room and fireplace.

The fire was reduced to mere embers after having sat without being tended most of the day. He set down his collection of Hadriana's items near the base of the fireplace, opening it and grabbing the first thing his hand landed on. He tossed it on the dying embers without even stopping to look at what it was. The fire immediately saturated it, burning brightly. The orange flames danced in his eyes as he stared at the fire, without seeing it. He wished for one moment that it was Hadriana in the fireplace, burning as thoroughly as whatever article of her clothing he had tossed in. He quickly started to shovel the remaining items in, one at a time, but with a speed that threatened to choke the flames.

When the last robe was deposited, he grabbed the first book. He glared at the cover for several seconds, and frustrated, ripped the book open and then tore it in half down the binding. He snarled and tossed the two halves in the fire. He watched for a moment while the paper caught fire, burning a green instead of red or orange. He picked up the bed coverings, with the other books still wrapped within them, and tossed the entire pile on the fire unceremoniously. Unable to bring himself to watch the last of it burn, he turned and walked to a chair near the table where he could turn his back on the fire. He sat down heavily, and let the anger that had been driving him flee.

He sat forward and put his hands over his face. 'What have I done', he moaned softly to himself. Hadriana was dead, and he felt a cold satisfaction with knowing that. He has a sister that he is afraid will lead back to Danarius. Mostly though, he thinks about Hawke, and all the angry sputtering's he had spit at her.

'What has magic touched that is doesn't spoil?'

'All that matters is I finally got to crush this bitch's heart'

'Don't comfort me!'

'I … need to go'

All the last things he said to her flooded through his head. She had tried to help him, and he had brushed her aside as if she was a bug. He remembered the look in her eyes, the hurt that showed in her face as he ranted about mages and magic. The look of betrayal when he said he wanted Hadriana to rot and all the other mages with her. He stared at his hands, willing them to help him to fix what he had hurt. Hopelessness filled him when he thought about Hawke and how badly he had treated her. Just yesterday, last night, he had been trying to figure out how to explain how much she means to him, and now… and now he just threw her away like a broken toy a child no longer wished to play with.

He jumped to his feet, strapping his gauntlets back on, and headed to the door without thinking too hard about what he was going to say. He just knew he had to talk to her, to apologize for his rash behavior. Darkness had fallen while he had raged within his manor; he strode through the shadows quickly. Hightown was quiet tonight and he reached Hawke's estate without seeing anyone else. He took a deep breath, and knocked lightly on her door.

Bodahn's face surprised him when the door opened, although he wasn't sure why.

"Messere" stated Bodahn, eying Fenris with suspicion. Fenris has never come to the mansion after nightfall before.

"I need to see Lady Hawke. Is she in?" asks Fenris, pushing his way past the dwarf.

"I am sorry Messere. Serah Hawke hasn't been in all day. I will tell her you stopped by if you wish" said the dwarf, hoping that Fenris would leave.

Fenris eyed the benches in the entryway. "I will just wait here for her, if you don't mind." He looked at Bodahn, a glitter in his eye.

"No messere, feel free." The dwarf said, shutting the door, and sighing to himself. He shuffled off into the main part of the house.

Fenris sat down on one of the benches. He was here now, and she couldn't come home without coming past him. He was here now, and he wasn't leaving until she came home, and he told her everything. He leaned forward, watching the door carefully, and waited.

* * *

><p>AN - Next Chapter is the good stuff!


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